


so he's got a few flaws

by Watermelon Wolves (Phnx)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Derek is a Failwolf, Humor, M/M, lots of embarrassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4754759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phnx/pseuds/Watermelon%20Wolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In short, everything was terrible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so he's got a few flaws

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Suica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suica/gifts).



> Response to a fic challenge from [lookididthething](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lookididthething/pseuds/Watermelon%20Wolves), who requested a Coffee-Shop AU with fail!wolf Derek (full prompt in the End Notes).

The door chimed cheerfully as it closed behind the exiting customer, leaving Derek free to collapse against the counter, head in his arms.

“Wow,” he heard Laura say from the other side of the Employees Only door that led into the cafe’s kitchen. “That was the most second-hand embarrassment I’ve felt since I was last forced to watch a romantic comedy. When I was ten.”

“Shut up,” Derek muttered into his brown sleeve. Sisters were terrible. Why was he cursed with so many?

“It was really inspiring, listening to _you_ attempting to make an iced, sugar-free latte with soymilk. Remember when you broke the coffee machine at home trying to make plain black coffee for Mother’s Day?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up--”

“He _did_ sound pretty cute. Too bad he happened to come by after we’d already decorated the cafe for Dahlia’s birthday party. Did he seem to like the _Frozen_ theme?”

_“I hate you.”_

“No? Well did he at least like your Sven costume?”

Derek groaned miserably into his arms.

“Oh, poor baby,” Laura cooed. “You know, you could have just explained to him that you don’t work here? I would have come out. I just didn’t want to interrupt the world’s worst attempt at flirting.”

“If you had a human heart, you would have come rescue me when it became obvious I was floundering.”

“If I had a human heart, I wouldn’t be a _werewolf_. And Derek, sweetie, floundering would have been a huge step up from whatever was happening out here. I should have videotaped it--you could have started your own reality TV show.”

When Derek didn’t answer, Laura poked her head out through the door. She sighed at the sight of his large frame wrapped pathetically around the counter, halfway to fetal position. “Derek,” she said, more gently this time, “It’ll be fine. Even if you see him again, he probably won’t recognize you, okay?” She walked over to him and reached out to straighten his antler headband, which had fallen askew in his misery. “And even if he does, it’s just a little embarrassment. It’s not like you were kicking kittens or something. I have it on good authority that fail!boys are in this year.”

Derek finally lifted his head. “Whose authority is that?”

Laura patted his cheek. “Just accept my word on it, okay?”

“So I’m doomed.” Derek let his face smack against the counter again.

“Yep! But look on the bright side!”

“...Aren’t you supposed to end that phrase with a description of an actual bright side?”

“Maybe? I don’t care. What I do care about is that our niece is going to be walking in that door in ten minutes for what is going to be the best birthday party ever, and you are not going to ruin it with your gloomy… everything.”

Derek clenched his fists and forced himself up, nodding determinedly. Laura adjusted her own costume--Kristoff--and together they faced the cafe door, ready for everything a five-year old’s birthday party could throw at them.

\--

The next time Derek saw the customer whose face had launched a thousand embarrassments, Derek was at least outfitted in something other than a reindeer suit. On the other hand, the man appeared to be having a very cheerful conversation with the current barista, Erica, who was funny and blonde and had the sort of confident sexiness that made it clear that she’d never been on the wrong end of a failed coffee experiment while dressed in a furry brown jumpsuit.

In short, everything was terrible.

Derek was fully prepared to turn around and walk away, but Erica obviously still had a vendetta against him. “Derek!” she called, red lips twisting into a smirk. “I didn’t get the chance to ask--how did you manage against the sobbing army of miniature Elsas?”

Derek glared at her. “It was fine,” he replied stiffly. “Only one of them cried, anyway.”

One look at her gleeful expression made it obvious that he’d failed to dodge whatever verbal trap she’d laid out. “Ye~es, I heard about that! How did you get her to calm down, again?”

Derek twitched.

“Oh, that’s right! Didn’t you sing her the _entire Frozen soundtrack?_ From _memory?_ ”

Derek could feel his ears turning red. This might be worse than the Sven costume and the disastrous attempt at making coffee put together.

“You know, Stiles,” Erica continued, turning to the Customer with a conspiratory gleam in her evil, evil eyes. “I heard Derek’s rendition of Let It Go was absolutely heart wrenching, but also that it--falsetto and all--didn’t hold a candle to his elegant portrayal of Fixer Upper.”

“Uh,” said the customer--Stiles--uncertainly. “That’s… good to know?”

Erica smiled brilliantly. “Isn’t it?” She looked back at Derek, her beatific expression fading back into a more familiar smug grin. “So, _Derek_ , what brings you to our wonderful coffee shop? Are you going to sing for us? We’d just love an encore.”

Stiles frowned at her. “He works in this coffee shop; why wouldn’t he be here?”

Erica burst out laughing, and Derek stared at the ceiling and tried to pretend that his entire face wasn’t fire-engine red.

“Stiles,” Erica gasped. “ _Stiles_. Derek hates coffee, and the feeling is mutual. I swear I once saw a bag of coffee beans spontaneously combust when he reached for them.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t _spontaneous_ ,” he snapped. “You and Isaac _dropped a lit match_ on its _paper packaging_ right before I was going to pick it up.”

“Semantics,” Erica replied, waving her hand dismissively. “It was still hilarious.”

The three of them fell into a tense silence. Stiles and Derek were focusing on finding the remaining _Frozen_ displays fascinating, and Erica was devoting all her attention to shooting Derek meaningful looks that involved a lot of waggling of her carefully-tweezed eyebrows.

Finally, Stiles cleared his throat and began edging his way toward the door. “I guess I’ll see you later, then, Erica? And, uh, Derek?”

“What?” Erica jumped up, looking panicky. “You can’t go yet, you need--you need your coffee!”

Stiles looked down at the full--and perfectly made--iced latte gripped in his right hand. “Uh. I’m good, thanks.”

Erica glared at Derek, who stared back at her blankly. “ _Derek_ ,” she hissed at him, confident that his lupine hearing would allow him to pick up her words despite the distance between them. “ _What are you doing? Are you really going to let him leave again without getting his number?_ ”

Derek looked at Erica, and then looked at Stiles who--though human--was still perfectly within earshot of Erica’s stage-whisper.

“After this conversation? Yes. Yes I am.”

Stiles quickly scurried around him and out the door, waving his hand apologetically in Derek’s direction.

Erica shook her head pityingly as they watched Stiles hurry away down the street. “Derek, really. You shouldn’t just give up after a teeny-tiny bit of embarrassment. Don’t you know that fail!boys are in this year?”

\---

Derek was settled into a table at the corner of the cafe, waiting for Laura to finish her shift baking in the kitchen. He had a novel laid out in front of him, a steaming mug of tea to one side, and the wonderful feeling of inner peace that came with the knowledge that the current barista was Boyd, who was serious and quiet and largely uninterested in mocking Derek.

He didn’t bother to look up when the door chimed, so he was completely unprepared to hear Stiles’ voice ordering at the counter. Derek kept his eyes down on his book, hoping that Stiles wouldn’t notice him.

And his sisters said he wasn’t optimistic.

Derek heard Stiles receive his drink and then take slow, meandering steps in the direction of Derek’s table, at last coming to a stop beside him.

“Is this seat taken?” asked Stiles, hand resting lightly on the back of the chair opposite to him.

Derek shook his head silently as he straightened up, closing his book and facing Stiles, readying himself for the mortification that was sure to come.

Stiles sat down stiffly. He was gripping his plastic cup so tightly that frozen coffee was starting ooze out of the space between the brim and the lid.

_What does he have to be so nervous about? Derek thought grumpily to himself. It’s not like I’ve ever seen him wearing brown hoof-mittens and a fluffy antler headband._

“So, uh,” Stiles began, “I just wanted to apologize for, uh, before. With--the phone number, and... stuff.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to apologize. You’re not obliged to hand out your contact information to every cervine creep who asks for it.”

Stiles’ fingers finally loosened their grip on his tortured cup, and his lips twitched into a small smile. “I don’t remember you asking for it, _Sven_. My apology is for Erica pressuring you to humor my--my crush. She seems to think she’s a match-making genius or something, and I know she can get a little pushy when she thinks she’s right, and… well.”

Derek blinked at him. “...Crush?”

“Yes? Did you not notice?” Stiles managed an awkward laugh. “What with the teasing, and the eyebrow waggling, and the ’ _give him your phone number, Derek_ ’-ing?”

“That was about me,” Derek insisted. “She was teasing _me_ , the eyebrow waggling and the phone number was about _my_ crush on _you_.”

Stiles stared at Derek for a long moment. “Maybe,” he said, beginning to snigger. “Maybe Erica is a genius after all.”

“Fuck you little shits,” called Laura’s voice from the kitchen. “I was the one who set it all up-- _I’m_ the fucking genius, thank you.”

Derek gave a long-suffering sigh, but as he smiled back at Stiles, he couldn’t help but think that maybe his sister was right. For once.

\---

Stiles and Derek were still sitting at the cafe table, deep in discussion, when Erica sauntered into the cafe hours later to start her shift. She watched as they bickered good-naturedly, smiles on their faces.

“See?” Erica told Boyd smugly. “I told you that fail!boys are in this year.”

END

**Author's Note:**

> -Yes, the title is from _Frozen_ 's Fixer Upper.  
> -I do not know why I found this round so difficult to write for. The prompt was wonderful and should have be easy. What is wrong with me. As it is, I missed about half of it:
> 
>  
> 
> _Prompt: Stiles just wants coffee. ~~And maybe a scone. And reliable wifi as far away from Scott's terrible relationship choices as he can get it.~~ What he doesn't want is the world's most judgmental barista glaring at him when he tries to order his Grande, Iced, Sugar-Free, Vanilla Latte With Soy Milk._
> 
> [Edit: So I just noticed that AO3 ate all my italics. And there were a lot of them, because I am very fond of italics. I went through and added them in again.]
> 
>  
> 
> _Derek doesn't even work at Laura's stupid cafe. Making Stiles' order (poorly) is just about as far as his 'flirting with people'-skills go._


End file.
